


Lay all your love on me

by taniaterror



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Sub!Q, i guess s1 is where i live now lol, s1 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taniaterror/pseuds/taniaterror
Summary: He felt like a live wire under Eliot's touch. Was this what sex was supposed to be? Had Quentin just been doing it wrong this whole time?





	Lay all your love on me

**Author's Note:**

> It's- It's just smut, y'all.
> 
> I have no excuse for the title of this fic, other than I've been listening to Mamma Mia a lot recently, and think [Lay All Your Love on Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YT-wSm18JXM) fits Q/El particularly well. Especially in this context.
> 
> Anyway, enough of that. Enjoy!

So Quentin really liked having sex with Eliot.

He had never had a steady supply of sex. Well, until Alice, but their relationship had been so brief that he wondered if that really counted. Because, being with Alice hadn't felt like _this_. He felt like a live wire under Eliot's touch. Was this what sex was supposed to be? Had Quentin just been doing it wrong this whole time?

And Quentin had certainly never had a steady supply of dick before. The sexual encounters he had with dicks, other than his own, amounted to two. Neither of those times led to him getting fucked. So he hadn't known how much he actually liked it. But when he learned, he wasn't surprised by it. This was something that had been building up inside him for as long as he could remember. Quentin rationalized that it was only a matter of time. But, god, he'd been so ecstatic to be having these experiences with Eliot.

 _Eliot_ , fuck. Right now, Eliot had him bent over the edge of the bed. One of Eliot's hands gripped his hip hard, the other was on his right shoulder driving him back onto Eliot's dick. He felt Eliot's hand snake up into his hair and pull. Quentin moaned unabashedly and went up on his tip toes. He heard Eliot laughing softly behind him. Quentin knew it wasn't in jest. There was only fondness in that voice. Eliot liked - loved - teasing Quentin, sure. But he would never dare to make Quentin feel inferior or inadequate.

The stretch in Quentin's legs was beginning to burn from holding himself up for so long. It was as if he'd been presenting his ass for Eliot to fuck into, all he needed was a shiny red bow. _What a funny tramp stamp that would make_ , Quentin thought. And then he internally chastised himself for thinking something so ridiculous and letting his thoughts spiral.

Eliot seemed to sense Quentin's mind was elsewhere because the next thing Quentin knew, Eliot was lifting Quentin's knee onto the edge of the mattress. Quentin's mind went blissfully blank. Eliot drove himself deeper, still, into Quentin, which was something Quentin didn't think was even possible. His other foot was barely touching the ground now. The room hadn't felt cold - in god, he didn't know how long it had been now - but the heat of Eliot's chest pressing to his back made him forget _cold_ entirely. Eliot's weight held Quentin down - comfortable, _secure_.

"Eliot…" Quentin pleaded. He didn't know what he was pleading for. He had the sheets in a white knuckle grip and Quentin held on tighter when Eliot slowed down. Oftentimes, the sex Quentin had with Eliot, there wasn't an in between. It was either rough and fast, or slow and sensual. Those seemed to be the only ways Quentin's brain could shut up. Sometimes it was both, because Eliot liked to switch it up on Quentin - because that drove Quentin totally delirious.

The sheet under Quentin was damp from sweat and precome, adhering it to his body. His dick was trapped between the cotton and his torso, making him whine. Practically mewling, actually.

Quentin turned his head to one side. "El, please."

Eliot hummed contently into Quentin's ear, nuzzling him there. His pace was honey-slow, and only moments ago Quentin could hear the loud slap of their skin.

"Tell me," Eliot whispered sweetly. "Tell me no one else has had you like this before."

Quentin could feel a drop of Eliot's sweat fall onto his back as Eliot stood up and pulled out. He was flipped onto his back, ass hanging off the edge, and his legs finally getting some relief.

Eliot was petting Quentin up and down his thighs tenderly, waiting on an answer, not yet back inside Quentin.

"You already know no one has," Quentin said, out of breath from the sex and from Eliot's scrutinizing gaze.

"Tell me again," Eliot said.

It wasn't like Quentin and Eliot aired out their whole sexual history to each other. And it wasn't like Quentin had that much history to tell, but he did tell Eliot this. And it wasn't like Eliot didn't believe Quentin. But sometimes, Quentin thought, Eliot looked - stared - at Quentin like he couldn't believe he, Eliot, got to do this with Quentin. Got to see him at his most vulnerable and euphoric. Like out of all the people Quentin had met, he _allowed_ Eliot to be with him. And that was just _incomprehensible_ to Quentin. That Eliot could possibly feel like that. He was Eliot Waugh, after all.

But the thing was, it kind of was like that.

It wasn't that Eliot was the first guy to fuck him, and Quentin suspected he and Eliot were on the same page about this, but that Quentin had never felt comfortable enough with _anyone_ to really let go. To not think, just act - just be. Yes, he could tell Eliot knew this by the way he looked at Quentin. But Eliot wasn't always the confident persona he put on for everyone else. He had his dark thoughts, too. He needed this reassurance. He needed to _hear_ it. And after all Eliot had given him, Quentin could give Eliot this in return. He always would.

"It's just you, El. It's only been you," Quentin said softly, but clearly.

Eliot gave Quentin the most tender smile and combed Quentin's hair off his sweaty forehead. He bent down to kiss him, open mouthed, starved, and pushed back into Quentin where he belonged.

Quentin's legs wrapped tighter around Eliot instinctively. He broke their kiss and moaned from feeling Eliot without a barrier between them. They had stopped using condoms a few days ago, after having gotten tested and all that, of course. Quentin swore the sensation was so overwhelming he could just die from it. And if someone didn't touch his dick _right now_ , he was going to die twice over.

Except when Quentin tried to move his hand, his wrists were pinned down on either side of his head by an invisible force. Fuck, he loved when Eliot used his telekinesis on him during sex. He was giddy with laughter but his laugh turned into whimpering because he didn't know how much longer he could stand to be delayed.

Eliot was holding himself up with one arm while his free hand roamed Quentin's body, sometimes teasing his nipples. He smirked down at Quentin but took pity on him and at last wrapped his hand around Quentin's dick.

Quentin immediately arched off the bed, coming across his stomach and chest after only three pumps. His legs unwound from Eliot's hips and were shaking uncontrollably. He was only vaguely aware of Eliot coming soon after that because Quentin's left leg abruptly locked up in excruciating pain.

"Ow! _Fuck!_ " Quentin shouted and pushed Eliot off of him with his right foot.

"What? What did I do?" Eliot asked, instantly alarmed and releasing Quentin from his telekinetic hold.

"Not you. My leg. Cramp." Quentin could only speak in short answers. He rolled over on his side, clutching his hurt leg.

"Q, you have to extend your leg."

"I can't! It fucking hurts!"

"It'll only hurt more if you don't." Eliot's voice was caring but firm. He took Quentin's leg by the ankle and knee. "C'mon. You got this, baby."

With Eliot's help, Quentin was able to extend his leg and the majority of the pain subsided. It still hurt if he moved it even the slightest bit, though.

"Where did you get the cramp?" Eliot asked.

Quentin heaved a deep sigh. "My goddamn calf.And, like, kind of the back of my knee."

"Okay, I actually have something for this," Eliot said. He rummaged through his side table and produced an unlabeled bottle.

"What is that?" Quentin asked.

"Something the Healing students cook up for this kind of thing," Eliot answered. "Well, for muscle cramps, I mean."

Eliot sat on the bed and took Quentin's leg into his lap. He started to massage some type of cream onto where Quentin got hurt. It felt cool and hot at the same time. Like that IcyHot thing athletes used. Whatever this was, though, got rid of Quentin's pain completely.

"Holy shit," Quentin said, amazed.

"Better?" Eliot said, bending and unbending Quentin's leg for him.

"Yeah." Quentin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, stay put. I'll get us some towels. We kind of made a mess."

 _Oh, right_ , Quentin thought. As soon as his leg cramped up, he couldn't get Eliot off of him fast enough. He definitely contributed to that mess by making Eliot pull out before he fully finished. And when he rolled over, he smeared some of the come from his chest onto the sheet.

When Eliot returned, he crouched down and cleaned up what Quentin presumed to be come off the floor. He felt unbelievably embarrassed and apologized.

Eliot chuckled. He stood up and dropped a kiss onto Quentin's forehead before proceeding to wipe off his torso. "No need. It happens." He reached between Quentin's legs and wiped his thighs clean and ass too.

They were mostly silent. Eliot smiled at Quentin softly through out, which Quentin shyly returned. They both enjoyed aftercare as much as the actual sex.

"Scooch," Eliot said. "I'll get a new sheet. And some water?"

Quentin nodded, he was parched, and moved around so Eliot could remove the cover. He rested his head against the pillows and slowly exhaled. The night was so quiet. Usually, that was a problem for Quentin. The quiet fed his anxiety and intrusive thoughts. But at times like now, after just being adequately fucked by Eliot, all Quentin felt was peace. He stared up at Eliot, who was now standing at the foot of the bed holding a folded bed sheet and a glass of water.

For a moment, Quentin just drank in Eliot standing there in all his naked glory. There were a few candles set up around the room and the light bounced off Eliot's messy curls in a sort of halo. Quentin's eyes roamed down Eliot's body and his duplicitous dick gave a slight twitch. Fuck, he had really turned into quite the little cockslut. But he knew he was in no shape to go again tonight, and returned his eyes up to Eliot's adoring face.

Eliot still wore that fond smile he saved only for Quentin, different from the one he saved for Margo. "Are you really going to force me to make the bed with you still in it?" he asked, walking over to hand Quentin his water.

"Um, I might not be in anymore pain, but my legs are still, basically, jelly," Quentin said, and then drank down half the glass. "So, I don't think I could even stand right now."

That was all the complaining Eliot was going to do because it wasn't like he was actually sorry about being the reason Quentin's legs were currently malfunctioning. So he just threw the sheet over the bed, over Quentin, haphazardly, and joined his boyfriend under the cover.

Quentin finished his water and placed the glass on top of the side drawer. When he lied back on the pillows, he found Eliot on his side, supporting his head up with an arm and gazing down at him. Quentin was hit with a wave of emotion as he stared back.

"Hey," Quentin said.

"Hey," Eliot repeated lazily.

"I love you," Quentin said before he realized he was going to say that. They hadn't said that to each other yet, and Quentin was quietly panicking now, unsure of how Eliot would respond.

Eliot's eyes did go a bit wide, but he quickly recovered. He caressed Quentin by the neck and kissed him gently, and then whispered against his lips, "Tell me again."

He could give Eliot this, thought Quentin. He always would.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

Eliot kissed Quentin. This time it was a little firmer, but still not intending to lead to anything else. Eliot broke the kiss abruptly. "I love you so fucking much, Q."

"I know." Quentin smiled. He was so lucky to love and be loved by Eliot.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this solely because I wanted to write a "realistic" sex scene. And once I got the idea to have Q get a cramp, it wouldn't go away. Sometimes cramps during sex happen, but only if you're having a _really_ good time lol. But, naturally, this also turned into our boys going through ~feelings~ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> [Reblog fic here](https://demiromanticmickey.tumblr.com/post/185041438300/lay-all-your-love-on-me-taniaterror-the)  
> [My tumblr](https://demiromanticmickey.tumblr.com/)


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